Resignation
by gumcrunch
Summary: Moving on is not forgetting completely.
1. Breathing

_**BREATHING**_

_A knowing smile formed across her lips as soon as she heard the hinge creak. The jet stream of water splashing against the tiles might have been enough to cover his deliberately slow footsteps in his opinion, but she could make out perfectly the sound of his shoes lightly scraping against the carpet, moving toward where she was. She heard the knob twist before the lock abruptly bit midway, and she was almost certain she heard him swearing under his breath behind the door as well. Stifling a laugh, she turned the shower handle as far left as it could go and tried to contain the shiver that crept up her shoulders as cold water started running down her body from the shower._

_ Long, toned arms wrapped around her stomach from behind, pulling her backward to rest against his body._

_ "Would it really hurt to run the water warm once in a while?" he grumbled as he nuzzled her neck. "Your hair smells _really_ nice."_

_ "Get out," she replied flatly, conscious of the amused expression on her face despite having her back to him._

_ "If you wanted me out, you would've stopped me at the door."_

_ "You mean the _locked _bathroom door wasn't enough of a hint?"_

_ He snickered. "No. You not making a sound when I opened your _room_ door was_ _a hint, though—that you don't mind."_

_ She shook her head and breathed out a silent laugh._

_ He raised his face from her neck and tilted his head forward slightly to get a look at her._

_ "I know you heard me, okay? I wasn't trying to creep up on you, take you by surprise or anything."_

_ "Right," sarcasm dripping from her answer. "I'm sure you weren't intending to do any of that at all."_

_ "Well…"_

_ She turned toward him and his hold around her loosened to just hands resting on her hips. She followed his eyes as they landed on her collarbone, and she noted the troubled curiosity that pulled his eyebrows into a furrow as he stared at her._

_ "Is that from today?"_

_ "Yes," she tried to cover the mark with her hand but he waved it away and continued staring at it, as if it was a completely foreign image to him. "It's just a bruise, Ward. Haven't seen one before?"_

_ He frowned, and raised his eyes to hers. "I'm not planning on taking punches for you anymore, if that's what you're saying," he looked at her matter-of-factly before shifting back to a more concerned expression. "I just wish you'd be more careful so you don't get hur—I mean, injured… like this."_

_ She rolled her eyes. _

_ "It doesn't even hurt—ow!" she yelped and glared at him, and he looked at her triumphantly, licking his lips with contentment as the hard kiss he unexpectedly planted on the area proved his point. _

_ "Doesn't hurt, huh?"_

_ "Fine," her glare melted into an alluring—or unnoticeably sarcastic—gaze, and he grinned widely at her as she leaned forward. "Thanks for the concern, Ward. I'll keep it in mind."_

_ He closed his eyes and puckered his lips slightly, expecting a kiss. He felt her face brush past his but a good eight seconds passed and no warm breath, no soft mouth felt anywhere near him any longer. Instead, a sudden whip across his face made him open his eyes. The stiff tips of her wet hair felt a bit itchy as they grazed lightly on his cheek with the unexpected motion._

_ "Hey!" he protested, cupping his cheek and scratching it, realizing she had her back to him again. He looked over her shoulder, watching her squeeze something from a bottle onto her palm._

_ "I told you to get out," she turned her face toward him for a second, a smirk playing on her lips, before proceeding to rub the liquid on her shoulders. _

_ He took in a breath, taking in the scent of her body wash as he eagerly started helping her apply the liquid down her back, forgetting what she just did and ignoring what she just said completely._

_ "Mm. This stuff always smells so good," he leaned down close to her and took another sniff. "What is this?" he carried on spreading the lather around her abdomen and stepping nearer to rub the wash from her body on himself as well. _

_ "Not for you to know," she turned around swiftly and grabbed his hands, rinsing them thoroughly under the shower before handing him the white bar from the soap holder, a stern expression on her face. "You can't go around smelling like me."_

_ She cocked her eyebrow meaningfully at him, and he took a second to nod back, acknowledging he understood what she meant._

_ "Wash your hands a bit more and get out. There's no way I'd finish getting clean with you in here—," she paused and raised her eyes to see him, sneering at her._

_ "Hell no, you won't," he started to eye her from head-to-foot teasingly._

_ She pouted, narrowing her eyes in a display of annoyance against his evident contentment. _

_"Good night, Agent Ward," he laughed heartily as she pushed him out of the shower, closing the curtains to hide herself as she chuckled in amusement after him as well._

_ She stepped out of the shower booth to see nothing hanging from the towel rack and sighed, breathing out a laugh as she realized he had one up against her. _

_ He sat on the bed with the towel wrapped around his waist, greeting her with a smirk as she opened the door, naked and dripping wet._

_ Her lips forming the subtlest of smiles as she strode over toward him. "I knew I should have asked for more towels."_

_ "I'll dry you off."_

_ He swallowed back a thick breath when she stopped directly in front of him._

"_Now, this. This is a proper good night," he grinned, putting his hands on her hips as he brushed his mouth against her stomach, breathing her in. "Mmm…"_

_ He heard the flick of the nightstand lamp switch, and everything went dark as he leaned back on the bed, carrying her with him. Nothing else but the sound of her breathing and the scent of her skin left to guide his movements._

* * *

He wipes the sweat beads still forming on his forehead with his shirt sleeve, noting the sharp odor of perspiration on his body. Red and breathing heavily from his early morning workout, he passes by his room to grab a towel, swinging it over his shoulder as he makes his way to the shower area. The jets of water stop abruptly just as he reaches the closed door, and he huffs slightly, pacing impatiently as he waits for whoever is in there to come out.

The familiar scent wafts into his nose when the door opens. She steps out, her wet hair dripping down her unzipped leather vest. It takes a second for her to catch his gaze.

"Morning," he smiles weakly, breaking the tense silence between them.

"Morning," she answers with a neutral expression.

"Forgot your towel?" he makes a move to offer him his.

"I'm fine."

He reluctantly stops himself from watching her make her way to her bunk. He enters the shower room and closes the door behind him. And for a good long while, he breathes her in again.

* * *

**A/N Fic was written because I am missing reading MayWard fics, as well as to help cope with reality. This is my resignation. Figured they might not be together anymore but they must have at least some memories. I might carry on, and I would want to if any of you like this. I'd welcome ideas for other incidences if you have any lingering in your head. If not, well, thanks anyway for reading.**


	2. Alone in Bed

**A/N That night, Ward dreams and May remembers.**

_**ALONE IN BED  
**_

_He stirred, still fairly deep in stupor, and tilted slightly to his side before he felt something lodge in his throat, interrupting his breathing. He paused for a moment, choking on the vomit rising from his stomach and willing himself to push it back down. He grasped his arms and curled himself in to hug his knees to his chest, coughing hard. He could feel himself shaking. He could smell the acidic odor of alcohol curdling inside him in his breath, and he coughed harder._

"Ssh…"

_ His eyes shot open instinctively at the familiar sound of her voice, only to be shut again by the stinging pain of liquor and sleep still lingering in them. He blinked once, twice, wincing as he did. His vision was spinning but he knew he was fully awake now. He propped himself up on weak elbows to sit up, as he forced his eyes open and squinted into the blurred haze that was his room. Futile attempt, he crashed back down on his side._

"Go back to bed."

_ He could have sworn feeling her hand on his shoulder, then her arm draping around his waist, and her head resting against his back. He whipped swiftly around, a shot of pain surging up his neck from the sudden movement and his eyes shut again briefly as he collected himself, only to open once again to see the bare wall next to his narrow bunk bed._

"Ward."

_ He felt his ears ring. Slowly, more carefully, he turns around again toward the direction of the voice._

_ She was standing against the opposite wall, arms crossed over her chest. The small room was pitch dark but, for some reason, he could see her clearly. The expression on her face was exactly like the one he last remembered seeing in the cockpit before he left. _

_ He tried sitting up but it was like he was bound to the bed._

_ "May," he started mindlessly, "May, we're not done. We're not done."_

_ There was no thought in his words, but he could hear himself rambling incoherently. And he could not get up. She turned to leave and he could clearly feel wanting to go after her but he remained stuck on the bed. He could feel himself wanting to call her name out, surprisingly indifferent to the possibility of everyone else on the plane hearing him, but he carried on talking without sense._

_ He could not understand what was happening. He did not know what was taking over him._

"Ward,"_ he heard her voice saying his name again. _"Ward."

_ And then he started shaking._

* * *

_ "Ward—"_

_ He bolted up on the bed, breathing heavily, eyes wide open. He took in his surroundings. Clothes on the floor, television set a few feet in front, dawn outside the window, the blanket entangled around his ankles, double-sized bed, and May curled up on her side next to him. Not a hint of contempt or even worry on her face._

_ "I was having a bad dream," the explanation came out of him involuntarily. He felt himself frown in confusion._

_ "I know. Go back to bed," she pulled him down and he followed._

_ He watched her smile as she stretched against him and lay her head on his chest. He wrapped her tight in his arms, still trying to regain grasp of what was happening._

_ "What was it about?" she whispered._

_ "You were in my bunk on the Bus," he pulled her closer, "I was saying we were not done. And I couldn't… I couldn't stop talking."_

_ He felt her breathing out a laugh against his chest. "It _was_ a dream. That sounds nothing like you."_

_ He snickered, albeit uncomfortably. "Yea, couldn't have been true."_

_ She tilted her head up to look at him and he stared at her as she moved to kiss him. Her lips felt light. _Too light_. He watched her as she kissed him, and he knew he was kissing back harder and harder still, but he just could not feel her mouth on his. He could feel himself suddenly scrambling to remember how he ended up in a hotel room with her again, but nothing was coming back to him. _

_ She pulled back and he saw the shift in her expression. Cold blank eyes and tightly-pursed lips._

_ "May… how—"_

"Seems like we're done here."

* * *

He jolts awake and his eyes are greeted by the faint hue of blue-tinted light filtering into the small room. He takes a moment to determine if he has actually returned to reality now. He sits up on the bed and allows his eyes to dart around him. He is on the Bus, in his bunk, looking out the small square window at the dawn rising over the distant skyline. Running a hand through his hair, he clenches his jaw and sighs deeply. He is definitely awake now.

And alone.

His mind starts to retrace earlier events. The plane landing for an overnight and his feet dragging him to his bunk on the Bus instead of his hotel room were the most vivid he could recall. He raises a palm in front of his mouth and lets out a breath. He does not smell of alcohol and he realises, as he looks down, he has even managed to change into his pyjamas.

He crashes back down on his bed with a huff. His dreams—he remembered them, but vaguely and incompletely—must have had something to do with his decision to go back to the plane instead of settling at the hotel like everyone else. An impulse that triggered unanticipated consequences to his subconscious.

He tries to shrug all of it away. Turning on his side towards the wall, he rests a hand against it and finds himself unable to.

* * *

_ She never slept in her bunk on the Bus, nor did she think she would ever. Coulson made it clear: the cockpit was her sanctuary; the pilot's seat, her throne. Besides, rest was a privilege that would rarely be granted to her with this assignment anyway, which was why she did not understand what the point of having it was._

_ "This your version of cosy?" Ward asked her once when he found her there alone during a rest stop. Everyone else had gone down to stock up, including Coulson, while she was left to refuel the plane. Apparently, he finished his errands early enough to catch her in her bunk, staring down boxes of her belongings._

_ "Thought you'd be the first one to unpack since-," he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the side of the door, "—you're the pilot and all."_

_ He bent back slightly, tilting his head sideways to look at the adjacent room, before resuming his position with a well pronounced smirk on his face. _

_ "My bunk's next door to yours. This…," he stretched his arm out, patting the wall where the bed she was sitting on was lying against, "… it's mine, too."_

_ She rolled her eyes, shifting focus away from him._

_ "My bed is almost right next to yours…" he trailed away, noting her lack of interest in what he was saying. _

_ She feigned paying him no attention and carried on, as if telepathically ordering her boxes to sort themselves out._

_ "You need help?" he offered with a somewhat smug expression, it seemed to her, and she found herself a bit annoyed without much reason. Other than the fact that she didn't want anyone near her things and the fact that this _kid_ always seemed too eager around her—in a too-cool-for-you way that came off downright pretentious. Besides his file, she didn't even know who he was._

_ "You know," he made a start toward her, entering the room without invitation, "silence actually means yes."_

_ She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips into a tight line, unable to take any more of his attempts at conversation._

_ "Alright, I will take that offer," she cocked her head at him with a smirk. "You can sort these boxes and organise this room for me then, Agent Ward. I expect you to be done before the others come back."_

_ She walked away, expecting him to follow behind her in protest, but she heard nothing._

* * *

She cannot stop the smile growing on her face as she thinks about it again—the night that she went back to find her bunk looking like an actual decent place to sleep in. If she had been predictable or if he had just been lucky, it still amazes her how he managed to fit the sheets the way she liked them, stack her books where she could easily reach them, and have enough discretion to leave all items of her clothing alone. She should have been disturbed, she realises, but to this day, she finds the memory of it endearing.

And that is all she has of him after all, it seems. Unimportant endearing memories.

She shuts her eyes tight, trying to force at least a couple hours of rest on herself.

* * *

_ It was no use._

_ She could feel the hours draining away, but there just seemed to be no sign of her mind slowing down anytime soon. 360 minutes, minus a collective 195 spent on other activities, for sleep tonight—she never got that lucky. Yet, her body just would not let her drift off._

_ She turned around to look behind. Ward lay on his side toward her snoring softly, peacefully asleep. He looked less serious in his sleep, almost as if he was free from something. He looked tranquil and quite… happy. She sighed, wondering how slumber came to him so easily while she spent hours hoping she could at least nap._

_ She shifted to lie on her back and watched him react to her subtle movement on the bed. Curiously—or perhaps, out of boredom—she put her hand very near his shoulder and began lightly tracing Morse code on his skin._

'WARD'

_ No response. _

'WAKE UP'

_ No response._

'MAYBE'

_ A slight shiver._

'I COULD'

_ His eyelids started fluttering._

'STILL USE'

_ A deep, heavy breath._

'SOM'

_ She did not have time to trace the code for the last letter, barely even catching the grin that spread across his lips, before she found herself wrestling playfully for dominance on the bed. The third time that night._

* * *

And still, she cannot sleep.

She lies on the bed, alone in her bunk on the Bus. In a few short hours, she will have to get up and get the plane ready for take-off, and she is quite unsure if it is enthusiasm or reluctance building up in her chest.

Reluctance, probably. She opens her eyes to acknowledge the quiet solitude of the early morning. The blue hues of dawn have begun to turn lighter. She tilts her head toward the small square window and for a moment, allows herself to get lost in the smudges of colours breaking through the horizon. She has always convinced herself that solitude is bliss. Lately, it hasn't seemed to be the case for her though.

She pulls her blanket tighter around her. Her mind races but only with recurring questions, and answers that fill the void but only lead to more questions. The endless web of doubt and ambiguous hopes that, she knows all too well, come with giving emotion the opportunity to take over reason.

She tries to shrug all of her thoughts away. Turning on her side towards the wall, she rests a hand against it and finds herself unable to.


End file.
